


BruisedBloodyBroken ~ Part 1 ~ Aftermath

by BruisedBloodyBroken



Series: Bruised Bloody Broken - AU [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Caring!Dean, Hurt!Sam, M/M, bruisedbloodybroken, featuring!bobby, part of a series, wincest (not yet but soon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BruisedBloodyBroken/pseuds/BruisedBloodyBroken
Summary: I read thru it multiple times ... I still think it's crap, but I need to post it, so I can run off to figure "Part 2 ~ CLOSE YOUR EYES" out.So I needed to get this one posted and out of my system, or else it would've bothered me another week or so ...
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Bruised Bloody Broken - AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145744
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	BruisedBloodyBroken ~ Part 1 ~ Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the Supernatural fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+Supernatural+fandom).



**A/N** : Here we go with the Sequel "PART 1 ~ AFTERMATH"

So, this picks up right where we have left off. I

It's nothing special at all … no suspense … no … you know, the usual stuff I write … it barely has a plot too …

actually I think it's crappy ... I wrote it, and somehow I've lost the feeling for it along the way ...

* * *

Sam's dealing with the aftermath from what happened in the warehouse.

Maybe Sam's going to reveal some details along this part of the series.

Maybe we will learn about his past and maybe we're going to see how things are going evolving between Dean and Sam ...

Then, we get to meet a part of Dean we haven't yet. Like formerly mentioned he suffers from PTSD. We'll see a glimpse of it, but it'll take a toll on him later in a Sequel I'm still trying to figure out …

I need to get PART 1 done before actually continuing with the prompt I'll be working on soon. (Demon!Dean has been requested .. this one's going to be the death of me, trying to figuring out how to write it without loosing traction along the plot …)

Hope you're going to enjoy this one ... though it's just a setup for "PART 2 ~ Close Your Eyes" (Is coming up soon I hope)

The usual warnings as mentioned in "BRUISED BLOODY BROKEN ~ PILOT", I suggest you read that one first.

I've listened to “BROTHER by NeedToBreathe” during writing this. NonStop.

* * *

**The Road So Far:**

_Sam's a hooker – at least for starters._

_. Dean's a hunter. Or … so to say … a retired one actually._

_The two meet in Sioux Falls, when Dean's looking for a hook-up at a bar called Nancy'n Fred'. Dean spotted a man there, who seemed to be right up his alley, even when he was a little tall._

_So they have sex a couple of times._

_Until Sam gets banged up pretty bad by two of his costumers and is left behind at an abandoned warehouse. Sam manages to kill one of the men and finds a way to contact Dean when he reaches the road heading north._

_Dean and Bobby drive off to look for him after his call and find him at the side of the road – messed up and all._

_Sam doesn't want a hospital & authorities involved, so they get him to the Salvage. Gladly Bobby's basement is equipped with a lot of medical supplies._

_They reach out to Ellen Harvelle – former paramedic to give them a hand with Samuel._

_The young hooker is figured to be Jody Mills son. - Ellen Harvelle is sure of it._

_Dean and Sam seem to share some kind of strange bond, so it doesn't surprise, that Sam leaves the door to his heart ajar for Dean._

* * *

**We pick up right where we've left off:**

Thanks.” Sam tore his look away from the hunter. “Thanks for coming.” _He meant it._

“You shouldn't talk. Ain't good for your vocal cords.” Dean didn't want to go all red over his face. But he did. “Besides … You got the guy good. Found his body. Burnt the place down.”

Dean cleared his throat staring at the empty bowl. He paused, gathering words, sorting them out in his mind.

Then he looked over at Sam, his hand covering the man's swollen side of the face, forcing him gently to look him in the eyes. “I don't care _why_ you think you deserve this. _But you'll quit_.” He was calm and soft, feeling the heat from Sam's bruised cheek radiating into his cool hand. “Either that, or you'll have to leave the county and never come back. I'm not going to let you do this to you. - Ever again. _Not under my watch.”_ Dean didn't know how he would know, that Sam wasn't going to leave.

“I won't.” For the first time since they met, it seemed as if Sam would let Dean in. Would be just Sam, not a hooker telling him what he wanted to hear. It even felt as if Sam was inviting him, leaving the door to his very soul ajar for him.

* * *

**Bruised Bloody Broken**

**Part 1 ~ Aftermath**

_ 3 Days, 12 hours later ...  _

“Dude. Cut it out!”, Dean called out as he entered Sam's room and spotted him sitting at the very edge of the bed. The kid was a pain in his ass ever since he woke up and seemed to do better.

Sam had his left hand wrapped around his torso, his right one clinging to the edge of the mattress.

He's been all alone by himself ever since Jody went missing. He had to manage himself since he's been around 17 years old and he had survived.

He's had worse without the opportunity of a nice warm place and a soft comfortable bed.

Sam breathed heavily, not able to counter with anything right away. _Yes_ , he intended to get out of bed on his own. And _yes_ , he didn't want Dean Winchester – a man he barely knew – to mother-hen him.

Dean's hand squeezed his shoulder, tearing him out of his thoughts. “You're not supposed to get up by your own, Samantha.”

Sam looked up with his good eye thru dark bangs of greasy hair. “Shower.”, he huffed. “I stink.”

He was determined to take a shower. That way or another he had to get cleaned up – And it wasn't just because he hated greasy hair …

“No way. Ellen'd kick my ass if you tear your stitches. I can get you a razor..”, Dean winked towards Sam's face, pointing at his beard.

“I feel dirty. I don't need a razor. I need a _shower_.”

“That's because you are dirty.”, he gave back without thinking, smirking.

Sam bitch-faced him. “I need a shower.”, he insisted.

“Yeah well … and how were you gonna do that?” Dean rose both eyebrows. “All by yourself?”

Sam winced as he shifted. “I don't know yet, but I will.”

“The hell you will.” The hunter knew he was clearly superior. So he nudged Sam's shoulder, gesturing at him to lay back down. Besides, how would they manage to get Sasquatch into the bathroom and under the shower, without re-injuring the lacerations on his feet.

Sam brushed his hand away. “Shower.”, he said, again.

_A rebellious one he was._ “Dude.” Dean muttered. “You are one stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?”

Sam grinned darkly, promising that there was more to that, than just being stubborn. “Yeah I am. - And you're a damn fucking jerk.”

“Bitch.” It came out in a common manor. As if it was the usual banter between good friends, or siblings. “Fine.” Dean sighed. “Shower it is. - If you pass out on me, I'm gonna kick your ass.”

“Fine. - Kick my ass. I'm showering anyway. With or without you.”, he said firmly. “No cuffing me to the bed _again_.”

Because yesterday … as Sam first intended to make himself move into the bathroom, he had failed bitterly. Not just because he ran out of strength, but also because Dean caught him as he was already halfway towards his destination. And for the idiot the hunter was, he hauled him back to the bed and cuffed him to it with his good hand, so he wouldn't be able to get up on his own again.

It's been a dick-move, but by the time Sam was back in bed, he passed out in an instant.

The handcuffs stayed over night, until Sam found a way to pick their locks with a toothpick and a wooden splinter from the bed with his broken hand.

Dean had to admit, that the kid was a real badass.

“So ...” Dean bit his lower lip thoughtfully. “How'd you think to do that?” He gestured towards Sam's bandaged feet.

Sam shrugged. “Just … walking? You know? The thing people do to get from point A to point B?”

“Fine.” Dean was game to see how that would work out. If the kid wanted it _that way_ …

Dean waited for Sam to make his next move. “So?” He was still waiting.

Don't rush me.”, Sam snapped. It was hard enough as it was. Having someone watching him while he was probably going to fail his task was even worse. “I've had worse.”

“You do?” Dean rose both eyebrows, watching Sam closely, reading his features carefully. What'd have to be worse than this – since he couldn't imagine Sam being actually a hunter. - Maybe in his past though … there was the possibility.

Sam looked aside, staring at his feet, willing them to carry his weight. And they did. As soon as he stood close to upright, he was taking his first steps, always looking on the ground, so to make sure, that they wouldn't get entangled in his long legs since they felt like jello.

“Doesn't look that bad ...”; Dean had to admit. “One way to go, Sammy.”

Usually Sam would argue about the nickname, but at the moment he couldn't care less.

His casted arm felt as if it weighed a ton, he just realized. So did his feet after a few more yards. Half way thru the room, he stopped, taking as deep breaths as he could without hurting his cracked rips more than they already did.

Dean was close to him. Even when Sam didn't look, he could sense him, see him hoovering from the corner of his good eye.

“Maybe you shouldn't look at your feet ...”, Dean suggested bluntly.

“I know.”, Sam hissed thru gritted teeth, still trying to will his pounding heart to slow down. It didn't work, so he decided since the pounding wouldn't subdue, he would carry on with the task of walking.

“So … why don't you try it then?” Dean pursed his lips, already feeling like triumphing and letting the younger man know that he had been right and that he would be teasing the living shit out of him about it. “You're gonna get dizzy if you go on like that.”

“ _Please_. Shut up.” Sam slid with his left foot forward, shifting his weight onto his right one. Then he did it the other way around. His feet were going to fail him.

Dean huffed out a breath, shaking his head at the stubbornness of the man. “C'mon.”, he murmured and with that, he slid his arm under Sam's and wrapped it tightly around the kid's back.

Sam didn't protest.

“No fainting, kiddo.”, the hunter took over most of Sam's weight and it worked, he kept walking – more or less – if you could call it walking anyway.

“Girls faint.”, Sam said bluntly.

“Shut up and watch your step, Samantha.”

It took them an eon to reach the bathroom. Once there, Dean let Sam sit on the toilet. By then, Sam was panting, shaking and sweaty and as pale as the white tiles.

Dean traced their path back to the bed with his look … there were a few smears of blood, probably the lacerations on Sam's feet had been torn up again. He gave Sam time to calm down, to adjust, or to whatever …

“What'cha say? You stay here, we get you undressed, and you're gonna take your shower over here?” Because standing in the shower didn't seem to be an option. Not anytime soon.

His response was a simple nod.

Dean was thinking … “You just sit here and don't move.”, he ordered, still thinking about how they were supposed to do this – and after Sam had his shower, how he was supposed to get him back to the bed, since he figured, that there was no way, that Sam'd make his way back there again – not even with his help.

Dean turned the water on and adjusted it until it seemed to have the right temperature, still watching Sam out of the corners of his eyes.

“You good?”, he asked.

Sam gave him another short nod.

At least his breaths didn't look that frantic anymore.

Dean then went to get some extra towels.

Sam was still in place when he returned, seemingly in the very same position as when he left him.

“I'm gonna unwrap that ridiculous large wookie-feet of yours, okay?”

Sam nodded again.

Dean did it – carefully. He removed layer after layer from the blood-soaked bandages. He drew in a deep breath through gritted teeth when angry-red skin made it's way into the dim light in the room.

This must hurt. Bad.

“You had worse?”, he asked, fumbling with Sam's hair, to get to see his face.

The kid's eyes were filled with tears. “Yeah.”

“You sure? 'Cause this has to suck bad.”

Sam nodded again. _If only he knew …_

“You … you know what I am … or … what I was ...”, Dean spoke up, “So … since you took that guy out in the warehouse, broke your hand to get out of the cuffs and yesterday you picked my cuff's locks … how long have you been in my kind of business?”

Sam chuckled, then looked up. He looked amused. “I kinda was … and then I wasn't. - I kinda stopped when I turned 17 ...”

Dean's eyebrows shot up. “Your mom or dad?”

“Mom …”, Sam answered. “Then she died.”

Dean thought for a moment, before continuing to unwrap Sam's other foot from the bandages. “What about your dad? Relatives?”

Sam shook his head. “It's always been me and her.”

His voice became soft. “So … What happened?”

Sam sighed. “She told me to run. So I ran. Until now ...”

That wasn't what Dean wanted to know, but that was already more than he expected to learn about Sam. “What about Angus Young?”

“One of my many names. - Knew you're a hunter as soon as I got into your car. - So I figured you'd get curious if I lie.” Sam shrugged with his left shoulder. “I can't use a hunter's attention.” And though he managed to land here … _among hunters._

“You've got bad experiences with hunters?”

Sam shrugged again. “I try not to get involved with them except it's for the job.”

Dean's mind was trying to get those pieces – including ones he already had figured out – into the right places.

“Doesn't answer my question.” Dean was done with the second foot. He stood up and helped Sam out of the shirt. “Lift.”, he said, gesturing Sam to stand up.

Sam did – slowly, carefully, shifting his weight onto the not so much injured leg, favorising the one with the ugly stitched up gash.

Dean pulled the younger man's boxers down. A casted hand was shifting in front of his private parts, hiding them.

“Nothing I haven't seen yet.” Dean padded Sam's calf, telling him to sit down again.

“It's _different_ … when … I'm not working.” It was true. It was something completely different to get undressed for a costumer. This? In his private life? He was a rather shy guy, someone completely different from whom he was out there on the streets.

The hunter started to dispatch the multiple bandages from Sam.

Dean hummed thoughtfully at that, but didn't say anything. He felt sorry for the kid. “You …”, Dean thought for a moment, staring at the casted arm resting in Sam's lap. “Can you lift it up? I don't think we've a plastic-bag or something …”

Sam followed the hunter's gaze and nodded. He lifted the arm as good as he could.

Dean tried to NOT LOOK.

“Since when do you … you know ...”, Dean started.

“Fuck strangers?”, Sam finished his sentence. He thought for a moment. “Since I'm about 18?” Sam didn't remember properly, but it had to be about six months after Jody vanished. “Or 17?”

Dean nodded to himself, getting the shower-head. The hose was a bit too short, but it'd work.

He felt a bitterness flooding the room's atmosphere.

“You never thought of doing something else for your living?” Of course he had to ask this very special question.

Sam shrugged. He could tell Dean everything, or nothing. Sam decided for the latter. “Not really.” It was a lie.

Dean knew the kid was lying. “Here we go …” He let the water run over Sam's feet to let him decide if the temperature was right. “Good?”

Sam nodded, though he hissed as the warm water burned in his wounds.

A shiver ran down Sam's back, when the warm spray of water tickled his sensitive skin, running down over him from head to toe.

A relieved sigh fell from his lips. Even though the water burnt in his wounds, it felt good. It felt like washing the past days off, getting rid of all the filth he's been carrying with him ever since.

Dean let him have this.

The way, pearls of water caught in Sam's lashes, when he tried to blink away the water. Wet hair clinging to his face, lean and firm muscles stretching along his torso, his legs. This shouldn't look as hot as it actually did to Dean. The kid was killing him with the way he blew water from his wet lips, drops catching in the stubbles of his beard.

Dean let Sam hold the shower-head and went to get shampoo. He then massaged it carefully into Sam's scalp and hair without talking, without questioning if Sam would want this.

Half way through his task, the hunter started to hurry up to rinse the shampoo out of Sam's hair, as he noticed the younger man sinking forward more with every moment.

“Hey, kiddo. - No passing out. One more minute and we're done.”

When they were done, and Sam patched up again, clothed into a fresh pair of boxers, sweats and a shirt – which took Dean longer that he had thought it would – Sam was beyond exhausted.

But he had his shower, and his hair wasn't all ugly anymore – so that was a win. If it was for Sam, he could die right here and now happily.

“Told you no fainting.”, Dean reminded him sternly.

Sam leaned back a bit and threw his head in his neck, sighing. He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “'m not fainting.”

“Sure looks that way though.” He was over-thinking on how to get the giant back to the bed. “You think you can manage going back to the bed?”

Sam kept his eyes shut. He was bone-tired. “No … don't think so ...”

Dean rose his left eyebrow. “Fantastic.”

“Just … just give me a few minutes, okay?”, Sam slurred. “I just ...”, he trailed off.

Dean gripped his shoulder tightly, so he couldn't tip over from the toilet-seat in any direction. “Dammit.”

The ex-hunter hauled Sam up, and somehow managed to get the big guy back to the bed. When he eventually managed to dump Sam on the mattress, Dean was panting, wrestling with himself to catch his breath.

Sam was drawn into unconsciousness right after, not aware anymore, that he's been manhandled into a proper position, all nicely tugged into the bed, legs propped up on a cushion, his casted arm tugged under the blanket.

_SPN_

Downstairs, Bobby was cooking Chili Con Carne. With a whole lot of meat and peppers and tons of bacon. Practically the only thing he was capable of cooking at all – despite of scrambled eggs.

He heard the Winchester-boy thump down the stairs and foot-falls came closer. When he sensed him entering, Bobby spared him a short side-glance.

“How's he doin'?”, he asked, stirring in the pot. “Did he tell you somethin'?”

Dean slumped down in one of the chairs and sighed exhausted. “Not much. - Lost his mother when he was around 17. Seems he's been on the road ever since. She was a hunter … And he's beating himself up about something ...” It wasn't much, but it was something. “You think it could've really been Jody Mills?”

Bobby shrugged, pulling the pot from the hot plate. “Ellen's sure of it.”

“Even if he is … does it matter?” After all, they had fought the gates of hell, there were no psychic kids left and Azazel was dead. “You think he's one of them?”

Bobby shrugged again. “ _WAS_ maybe..”, he corrected the younger man. “Dean. - If he is one of the special kids and flew under the radar for so long …”

“It's done, Bobby. - Azazel killed mom. Dad's gone …”, Dean trailed off. “The gate is sealed ...”

“IF Jody was raising that kid as hers, if she wouldn't tell anyone, something's off.”, Bobby pointed out – he barely was wrong with his forecasts.

“Something _WAS_ off. - Like 15 years ago.”, he stated, besides it wasn't _their_ fight anymore.

Bobby grumbled something under his breath. “Jody was a friend. She was family, even though she kept to herself mostly. - She kept him hidden and I wanna know why.”

“You might as well have to ask him yourself then. - And even if something happened back then … you really wanna risk and drag him back into it? You might as well can shoot him in the head right now. That'd probably be more human, than pulling someone thru the shit we've been thru so far. - We've seen how good that works out, didn't we? It always ends in a disaster. -Well, I sure as hell don't do this shit anymore. _Besides_. If she hid him for some reason from everyone, it might as well would be better not to dig shit up and kick something off. - AGAIN.” Dean spoke calmly.

Bobby was a wise man. Usually it was him to speak words of wisdom to the Winchester. Maybe he wouldn't poke around, if it hadn't for him, loving Jody like a sister.

_SPN_

Bobby Singer entered the room silently.

“Hey.”, Sam greeted him with a weak smile traveling over his face. “Mister Singer.”

The grizzled hunter left the door ajar. “Hey, boy.”

Sam made an effort to at least sit up against the headboard. Showing a little of the honor and gratitude the old man deserved for letting him stay under his roof.

“You up for some talkin'?” Bobby was no-one to beat around the bush. He eyed the injured man wearily.

Sam blew out a thoughtful breath, but nodded anyway. He was probably owing the man that much, after all no one had asked him anything fundamental except for what he figured was small-talk, since he was here, and the least he could do was answering questions.

After all, he would want to know about the stranger in his house too. If he had a house. And if he would take a stranger in anyway …

Bobby went to get the chair and pulled it up beside the bed. Then he sat down, and adjusted his ball-cap “So …”

Sam waited, looking the man up and down briefly, assessing his features and body-language automatically.

“You … are Jody Mills kid?” Of course he wouldn't pussyfoot around.

Sam's eyes widened, his pupils dilated. He didn't think about getting asked about his mother. Well, Jody hadn't been his birth mother, but she had rose him.

“Why would you ask?”, he asked, his eyes narrowing, trying to read from the hunter's face what this was going to be about.

“Because I knew her.” His lips twitched. “She was a friend of mine ...”

Sam pondered that. “If so, she would've told me about you.”

A beat of silence.

“Well, she didn't tell me about you either. - She didn't tell _anyone_ … So … why would she do that?”

Sam shrugged. “You're a hunter?” The kid asked back. “I know you are, you know? I know Dean's one too. Jody told me not to get involved with your kind.”

“Though you did? - Get involved with Dean?”

“That's the job. - I don't care who my costumers are as long as they pay.” Sam answered, not a single emotion giving away how much he hated himself for what filthy things he had done for a living so far.

Bobby eyed him for a moment. There was a beat of silence. “Jody. - What happened?”

“Why do you wanna know? It's fifteen years now. She's dead. - No one came looking for her.”

“If one of us would've known that she's in trouble, if she would've called, someone would've come. _I would've come.”_

Sam sighed. Probably there was no way around this. He was at the hunter's mercy due to his condition.

So far, nothing bad had happened, and he didn't think it would either if he didn't tell the old man what he wanted to know. On the other hand, hunters were a kind of their own and they'd make you feel safe, as long as you were playing along. Sam knew.

“Jody wasn't my biological mother, but she rose me.- She taught me everything about the business, took me with her on hunts when I turned 14 or so …”

Sam's gaze wandered towards the comforter, where his look caught on the pattern of stripes and curls printed on it. His voice turned soft at the memory of the woman who had taken care of him.

“She was great. - Sometimes we'd fight. But mostly, we were a good team. - She did the hunting, I did the research. Except, when it came to demons. She wouldn't let me close to anything that's got to do with them. She didn't talk about demons in my presence either.” Sam's lips morphed into a thin line of bitterness. “That night … I figured it was about demons, since she wouldn't talk about it … Jody reminded me of our rule. She demanded, that if she wouldn't come back within three days, I was supposed to RUN. To _run and never look back_. To not _try_ and look for her. I should leave town and just … RUN.”

Sam kept on staring, sunken in thoughts.

Bobby listened, waiting for him to continue. As he didn't, he asked. “You did?”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Hell no. I wasn't going to leave her anywhere behind. - I checked out of the motel, but I stuck around, observed the motel-room if she'd come back though ...”

“She didn't”, Bobby assumed.

Sam nodded, stealing a look at the gruff man in the chair, checking if he was still safe. “No. - I stayed there for another week. Until …” He took a deep breath, though it hurt. Not just physically, but also the memories that kept coming back into his mind. “There was a guy checking into our room a week later. - I knew that he wasn't human in an instant.” Sam shrugged. “Anyway … he didn't come back out of the room for another day, and since the guy didn't carry anything with him, I supposed he got caught in my demon's trap under the bed …”

Bobby wasn't surprised at all that the kid was a clever one.

“Bold and stupid as I was with 17, I figured I'd be able to take on the demon all by myself and torture him until he'd tell me where Jody was.” Sam looked up, locking his eyes with Bobby's. “In the end, he didn't tell me anything. And I was stupid. The trap got broken, and that was when I started to run.”

Sam paused, his fingertips gracing over the healing stab-wound on his chest. “I didn't look back.”, a decision he regretted deeply. “I didn't continue looking for her, and I didn't call anyone to look for her. - It's been important to her, that I – at any cost – EVER get involved with a hunter. For what reasons ever – I don't know. Since then … I never stopped running and I never stayed in a place long enough to raise attention.”

Bobby nodded in understanding.

“And no. She never mentioned my natural mother. - But she must've known her. She told me, that she was the most beautiful and loving woman she's ever met, and even though she had to * make sure that I'm save * she loved me none the less.” Sam's expression turned sad. _If she would've cared, she wouldn't have given me away that easy,_ he added in his thoughts.

“You remember Ellen? The Roadhouse? Her daughter Jo maybe?”, Bobby kept on digging.

“Yeah. - One time she took me there. - I can't recall a lot, but I remember being sick or so … We'd stay there for a day or so. Back then I didn't know that I've been cursed by some witch Jody was hunting. - Ellen --- She's the one who took care of my stab-wound, wasn't she? I figured I knew her …”

Bobby nodded.

“Why are you asking all this?” Sam's jaw was set. “It's in the past. - And to be honest … I think Jody's _dead_. She's been killed by demons, because of whatever reasons drove her down that road. “

“ _Because_ I think, that she's been hiding you. From everyone. - And if Jody Mills does such a thing, she must have had good reasons, boy.”

Sam shrugged again. “Whatever reasons it may have been. - The only reason why I keep running is, because I don't know anything else, and not because someone is after me.”, Sam explained. There was nothing special about him. Has never been. Except for his visions and headaches and dreams, but all of this had ended quite some time ago and hadn't come back.

“You told Dean your real name though ..:” Bobby recalled.

Sam stared back at the comforter and chuckled. “When I got into his car, I knew what he is. - So, going with my real name seemed lesser suspicious. I figured, that he wouldn't buy that I'm Angus Young.”

Bobby pursed his lips. That made sense.

“I saw his tape-collection. None of my aliases would've worked on him, not with his background.”, Sam added.

Bobby leaned forward and rose. “I appreciate telling me all of this.”

“Did I have a choice?”; Sam asked, looking up at the man questioning.

“You always have a choice, boy.”

Sam didn't think so, but he let it slip. A discussion about decisions with his host could get ugly and he didn't want to piss him off.

When Bobby was about to turn around and leave Sam, the young man called out to him. “Mister Singer!?”

The old hunter looked back over his shoulder, turning halfway around to face the kid.

“Thank you for your hospitality. - It means a lot. - And … as soon as my condition allows it, I'm going to pay it off.” It was a honest meant promise.

“It's Bobby, son.” He paused. “And you don't have to pay anything off.”

_SPN_

_Days went by …_

Sam kept on sleeping a lot.

Bobby tried out some recipes – to Dean's surprise it had nothing to do with their business. He was just “cooking”.

Dean spent most of the time with Sam, keeping him company.

Bobby dragged a rusty wheelchair inside, which had been disposed years ago on the junkyard.

Ellen stopped by to check on the patient and to talk to Bobby about what Sam had told him.

_SPN_

Sam was holding onto the handrail for dear life, despite that Dean was in front of him, taking the stairs backwards down into the hall. He was encouraging Sam without words. It was his first try to go downstairs, joining them when they had supper and maybe watch some TV.

The kid was panting, his knuckles white, as he made his way downstairs carefully. He took one step at a time.

The stitches were gone, but he was still sore and the scars tore at his skin. Specially the deeper ones hurt like a bitch. His feet were better too, they were mostly healed, but he still couldn't wear shoes.

“Break?”, Dean asked, having a close eye on Sam as he didn't want him to overdo it. Again.

“'m good.”, he panted, beats of sweat on his forehead.

“You sure?”

Sam gave him a look, telling him he shouldn't ask every other minute if he was okay. He wouldn't be Samuel Mills if he didn't at least try and get into the kitchen within an acceptable time-range.

Two more stairs, and he was swaying on his feet, feeling as if he was loosing connection to his surroundings.

“Whoa” Dean reached out and steadied Sam, sitting down on the stairs with him in slow-motion. “Next time I ask you if you need a break, you better TAKE A DAMN BREAK.”

“It's ridiculous.”, Sam stated. “I can do this.”  
“Slow it down then.”, Dean demanded, his hand flat between Sam's shoulder-blades. “No one wants you to overdo yourself.”

“You guys patched me up. - I'm eating your food. _You're_ sticking around me most of the time – practically wasting your time. Bobby checked my apartment, got my stuff here … I can't make that up to you guys in any way. - So at least I can speed things up, so I can leave some time soon.”, Sam explained.

Dean eyed him curiously for a moment. “You're in no condition anytime soon to go anywhere.” Besides, he didn't want Sam to _leave_.

“I've already been around too long.”, Sam gave back.

“No one's after you. - So why would you wanna _run_?”

“Because that's what I do … _moving_.”

“What are you so desperately running from?”, Dean burst out. “What is it, you try to run from?”

Sam's gaze fell at the bottom of the stairs. “I left her to be tortured and killed by demons. Because of me my mother is dead. - You think I don't know that? - I've a lot of time to think about Jody going missing and me running.”

“Don't you think it's a bit of a long time beating yourself up about it? - You were what? 17? Without anywhere to go?”, Dean asked, trying to show him a different way to look at his past.

“I was the son of a hunter. - I knew how to patch wounds up, cover injuries, do research. I knew a lot of things when I was 17. It was my fault. She went after a special demon. One with yellow eyes. - I know that. I've listened to her when she talked to another hunter on the phone a couple of weeks before she left.”, Sam told him calmly. “I bet she went after him because of me. - I don't know why and what for, but somehow it was connected to me.”

Realization struck Dean Winchester like someone slapped him at the back of the head. He swallowed hard. “Yellow eyes you say?”

Sam nodded. “Why? - You know something?”, he perked up. His look closing in on the hunter's face, reading him.

“Nah ...” Dean chuckled and shook his head. “So … you good to go?”

Sam nodded and took in a steadying breath. He would the let the topic slip for now. “Let's do this then ...”

In the kitchen, Bobby was setting up the dishes. A pot with mashed potatoes and a bowl with gravy was already on the table. He was about to place a plate with sausages there.

“Look who's made it downstairs.” Bobby seemed to be of high spirits.

Sam sat down carefully. “Thanks.”.

Dean took the seat next to Sam.

Bobby grabbed a newspaper from beside the stove, and held it into Dean's line of few. “Check it out. Could be somethin'.”, he murmured. “What do you think?”

Dean took the paper, reading the headline of the report on page three. “Missing Jeany Beaver found bled out in basement.”, he mumbled to himself and pursed his lips.

Sam glanced at the paper, reading the report from the distance, his mind going straight into hunter's-mode trying to figure out which monster it was.

And because he was so not curious.

_Basement_

_drawn from blood_

_marks on the woman's nec_ k – supposedly from needles.

Sam's mind set into motion, trying instantly to put the pieces together which were hidden in the report.

“Djinn.”, Sam murmured to himself, his eyes still glued to the article.

Dean looked up. “What?”, he asked, still in thoughts.

“It's a Djinn?”, Sam half stated, half asked. His look moved from Dean to Bobby and back.

Dean and Bobby shared a look.

“How'd you know?”

“The vic's found in a _basement_. Djinns like dark abandoned places, don't they? They wrote she died of blood-loss but there was no blood on the scene … and they mention marks to the woman's neck. - _Djinn_ , would fit, wouldn't it?”, Sam explained rationally. He hadn't forgotten how to do this, after all these years, putting together clues about monsters.

He himself was surprised he hadn't forgotten.

“Probably is.”, Bobby answered. “I'll call Ellen after ...”, Bobby gestured towards the food. “Now eat. Food's getting cold.”

They ate.

Sam stuck with gravy and mashed potatoes due to his loose teeth and his still sore neck.

After dinner, Bobby went to make some calls.

Dean and Sam moved to the living-room, watching “Hellraiser”. Sam was making jokes about how ridiculous the movie was. Dean defended it for what it was worth.

Bobby watched them for quite some time, listened to their playful banters and smiled. He sure hadn't seen Dean Winchester that relaxed and content in quite some time. And for Sam – he might as well was growing on the old man despite his former curious thoughts about the man.

Eventually, Sam became tired halfway thru the movie.

Dean's arm rested on top on the back of the couch. Sam was sitting mere inches away from him, favorising his right side. They two of them eventually came closer to each other physically.

In the end, Sam's head was resting on Dean's shoulder snoring softly, the hunter's arm wrapped around Sam's shoulders, a satisfied smile across his face.

_SPN_ ~

They fell into a content routine of Sam doing his exercises, every other day a bit more, a tick faster. Eventually he helped Bobby with some research on monsters, working the phones wherever the grizzled man wasn't around, to pretend to be FBI, wildlife-service or whatever other authority was needed.

Sam was more than motivated to help out if he could, so to pay his dept to the grizzled hunter and Dean.

_SPN_

It was night.

The house was silent and calm.

Outside, the yard was covered in layers fog of mist, due the change of temperature.

Everyone lay in their beds sleeping.

Sam first wasn't sure what woke him. When his mind came to awareness, the first thing he heard were troubled sounds in the distance. The more lucid his sleep-hazed mind became, the more clearer grew his surroundings, and the loud pained moans filling the house.

He blinked and rubbed over his face with his good hand. Then listened, as the moaning subsided, waitingif it'd be heard again.

It did.

Sam sat up slowly, still sore as hell, but not as bad as he had been. He looked around, straining his senses to figure out what those sounds were supposed to be and where they came from.

He blinked again and listened.

Sam threw the covers aside and fought to get out of bed. He crossed his room towards the door and took his over-sized hoody with him. He opened the door and slipped into the hoody, zipping it up since it was chilly.

Sam glanced into the corridor, listening.

The sounds came from Dean's room, which happened to be right beside his. For a moment he hesitated, but decided to go and check on the former hunter anyway. . .

It tore on his insides to hear those pained moans and gasps … He know how this kind of pain would sneak into your mind and tear your dreams apart.

He turned the knob on Dean's door carefully, so not to make any sound. The door wasn't locked, so he entered, his bare feet barely making a sound on the wooden floor.

Sam glanced into the room and caught sight of Dean lying on his bed. Moonlight filled the room and covered it in a soft silvery shine.

He could barely make something out except for the writhing form under the covers on the bed. Sam's lips formed into a thin line, his face fell. For a moment he debated with himself what he was supposed to do. He couldn't just leave and let Dean go through this all on his own.

He plucked up the courage to go for it.

Dean was – obviously – _hurting_ …

The hunter hadn't left him in his agony alone, so – whatever nightmare it was Dean was living thru – Sam wouldn't leave him to it either. He moved silently across the room to the bed and sat down at its edge.

“Dean?”, he whispered, his not-broken-hand moving over Dean's chest and covering his heart, feeling his troubled breaths and rabbit heart-beats through the thin shirt he was wearing.

The hunter didn't react to him.

“It's okay.”, Sam said hesitantly, taking in the older man's furrowed forehead, his tightly closed eyes, listening to a desperate whimper.

Sam crawled into the bed on top of the covers, and nuzzled into Dean's neck, his lips close to his the hunter's ear. Sam then wrapped an arm around Dean's middle and threw his leg over Dean's.

He shushed the hunter softly, whispering nothingnessess into the man's ear.

“You're good.”, Sam breathed. He started stroking him softly, cuddling into Dean's side. “I'm here. - It's just a dream.”

Sam didn't allow himself to fall asleep, until the hunter settled back into a more content sleep and after that another while longer. Until Sam was too tired to keep his eyes open anymore and he himself fell back to sleep.

_SPN_ ~

Morning came hard – and fast.

“Sammy?”, Dean murmured surprised, his forehead creased in deep lines as he glanced at the man wrapped around him like some tentacle-monster holding onto it's prey. Dean rolled over – to face him - carefully, so not to wake the younger man.

“Sam?”, he asked hoarsely.

Sam made a content sound, a shiver running cursing through his body.

Dean took in the situation, recalling what they had done last evening and as far as he could tell, Sam went to bed into his own room … and Dean going to crash in his bed.

He brushed along Sam's cheek gently and tugged a strand of hair behind the kid's ear. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep.

“You've had a nightmare.”, Sam murmured, adjusting himself, when Dean shifted, so he was flush against the hunter's body again.

“Did I?”, Dean asked curiously. He couldn't remember anything. Well, he could, but he'd never admit it to himself or anyone else ever.

“Yep.”

Dean glanced down at Sam's mop of hair and tugged his arm under Sam's neck, to wrap his arm around the kid.

“So?”

“I came.”, Sam answered sleepily. “And I stayed.”  
Well yeah, _obviously_. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember. But there was nothing.

Dean shifted again.

Sam adjusted again.

“So ...”

Sam hummed. “Gimme five more minutes.” Sam yawned.

Dean exhaled audibly. He brushed another strand of hair out of Sam's face. He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on Sam's forehead. “You gotta let go of me though ...”, Dean whispered into his ear.

Sam made a disapproving sound. Dean wasn't quite sure if Sam was conscious enough to understand. “Sam?” He was so sorry to have to do this, but his bladder was about to burst any second now.

The kid hummed.

“Sam … I really need to drain the lizard like yesterday.” He tugged on Sam's leg carefully, knowing since he knew it was the sore one.

With a sigh, he eventually shifted and pulled back from Dean, entangling himself.

“I'll be right back.”, the former hunter promised, giving him another hasty kiss before leafing the comforting warmth of the bed.

_SPN_

Dean and Sam came closer over time.

It wasn't because of sex – or the expectation of having sex. Not at all. It was more to that.

They did researches for other hunters, dug the lore whenever there was less time and an urgent case to be solved by someone out there. They hung out together, barely separated for longer than a couple of hours tops at once.

They had kissed. They kissed a lot lately.

Though, Dean figured, because Sam still seemed feeling sore, that there was no way he'd try anything beyond the things they did so far.

They went to bed each night in their own rooms, but Sam would sneak into Dean's bat-cave each night and sleep at his side wherever he had nightmares or not.

It became a common thing between the both of them. So did their banters.

Dean felt this familiar itch in his very bones, to go on a hunt after quite some time. A salt and burn, or a vamp's nest, or something like that. Something easy to hunt down.

_SPN_ (S4 EP 11 “Family Remains”)

It was their first hunt together.

A potential female spirit in Stratton, Nebraska, which turned out to not be a spirit at all. Actually it's been HUMAN siblings protecting their home from a family which had recently moved in. In the end, Dean shot the boy, while the father was forced to stab the boy's sister in line to protect his daughter and wife.

It's been hard on Dean. Somehow this job had reminded him of hell. Being tortured and torturing other's. Those kids didn't understand what they have been doing … Dean on the other hand – downstairs in the fiery pits – he on the other hand, had relished the opportunity to inflict pain back then …

_SPN_

It turned out, that Sam wasn't just clever and good at doing their researches, he was also a trusty sidekick when it came to their job out in the field.

_SPN_

It was their first night back at Bobby's after Stratton.

Like always, they went to bed separately.

Sam lay wide awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, since he had sensed, that Dean was bothering something ever since the hunt. He's been silent, they didn't stop to grab food on their way back, and most of all it was the hunter's lost expression lingering within his features.

Sam knew something was off. He knew, Dean – who he felt utterly bonded to – was hurting in a way he probably couldn't imagine.

Sam couldn't get himself to ask what it was, that had set off such a mournful mood. So he had decided to just BE THERE, in case Dean wanted to talk … or whatever …

So here he was, being wide awake, waiting for any signs of distress from the room beside his.

It didn't take long though, until the moaning and whimpers were heard, filling the air with hurt and agony.

Sam did, what he always did.

He got up, patted over to Dean's room, sneaked inside ever so quietly and crawled under the covers.

Now that his cast was gone, and he felt pretty confident about being healed, it was a lot easier to wrap himself around his the older man.

Sam's fingers ghosted along the older man's jawline, tracing deep lines of sorrow in Dean's face with his fingertips.

He propped up on his elbow and leaned in to place tender kisses along Dean's lower lip, his chin. The moaning eventually subsided and Dean finally kissed him back, catching the younger man's face in his calloused hands.

Sam's hand traveled down over Dean's neck, his shoulder, chest and belly until he found the seam of his t-shirt.

“Sam.” Dean wrapped his arms around him, leaning into his touch, when Sam's hand sneaked under his t-shirt, feeling his big hand against his own clammy skin.

“It's okay.”; Sam reassured him, it was mere a whisper – a breath, telling him that he wanted this, and that he was waiting for this as intently as Dean had. “It's okay, Dean.”

They locked eyes.

Dean needed to know that this honestly was what Sam wanted and not because the kid felt the need to pay whatever dept he thought he was responsible to pay back to him.

Sam surely wasn't paying anything back at the moment.

With a swift move, Dean was on top of his partner in crime the very next moment, straddling his legs, a calloused hand on Sam's chest. Again he locked his longing look with Sam's. _Asking_.

Sam smiled softly, his hands coming to rest on Dean's thighs. _Answering_.

They didn't need words.

Somewhere along the way between kissing, fond touches and whispered nothingnessess, they lost their clothes under the covers.

Dean placed a trail of kisses and soft breaths along Sam's neck. He arched into it, baring his neck to the other man, his hands resting on Dean's rib-cage, his body trembling and shaking at the tickling sensations against his skin.

All ghosting kisses and barely-there touches … unsaid promises along their way.

This wasn't about fucking one another. There was nothing dirty or filthy about this. This were two souls becoming one. Two beings intertwining their energies, fusing them into something better. Something greater. Something no existence in heaven, on earth nor hell could understand. Unleashing a force, shattering their boundaries.

… to be _continued_

**Author's Note:**

> I read thru it multiple times ... I still think it's crap, but I need to post it, so I can run off to figure "Part 2 ~ CLOSE YOUR EYES" out.  
> So I needed to get this one posted and out of my system, or else it would've bothered me another week or so ...


End file.
